


Jennifer Sent Me This

by wildlyegregious



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Multi, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-04-16 03:31:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14155701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildlyegregious/pseuds/wildlyegregious
Summary: Greg boasts, marital presiding ensues, Ryan learns something new.





	1. Jennifer Sent Me This (Part 1)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm super new, been reading anonymously for months, but when this popped into my head it was too delicious not to write.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg boasts, marital presiding ensues.

Greg was beaming from the dining room table over to the living room while he spoke into the microphone, introducing his show once more. He’d never been able to convince Ryan to attend one of his podcasts, but tonight his dearest legendary colleague sat in the armchair by the couch, which held his producer and his wife, and he was positively _buzzing_ off the delightful thrum of the confabulation before him.

“Tonight from the Fortress of Proopitude, I’m proud to announce the presence of not just one but _two_ Ryans, one of whom you may know.” He added airily, smirking at them both. 

From his view at the dining room table (ignoring the conflagration of cables his producer usually hid with ornate neatness, the lackadaisical mess out of public view somehow endearing), he was in full command of their living room. It was much more relaxed and luxurious than the crisper and more modern dining room openly connected. It was one of Jennifer’s favorite domestic accomplishments; she’d transitioned the gargantuan space in their latest house from dining room to living room aesthetically. The living room leaned towards a warm-toned, cozy and eyebrow-worthy bordello vibe. The dining room was crisp, one of the walls was painted an flagrant Caribbean blue, with a bronze-supported glass table.

“They’re both free, they’re both at eight o’clock. They’re both free, they’re both at eight o’clock. ‘How much does it cost?’ ‘It’s free.’ ‘What time is it at?’ ‘Eight o’clock.’ It’s in the back room. Um, you can go to the front bar, get yourself a drink, and then _nip_ to the back, where you’ll hear—well last time we had reggae music playing.” Greg paused, a momentary silence filling the space with quick and somberly impressive width.

“Which was weird.” His voice filled the void in contemplation. “I guess I’m getting more open minded in my old age. Uh, it’s not that I don’t like reggae music, I _love_ reggae music, it’s just that Ryan had it playing when I walked in and usually I’ll flip on funk music, and I was like, ‘Let’s get into a reggae bag,’ and I think it really lent a lot to the proceedings. I know that I presided over a marriage after the show was over.”

Greg glanced briefly at Jennifer in order to dutifully receive the unimpressed glare he was expecting. He found instead a keen, daring look in her eyes and the tiniest of smirks dancing across her lips. Startled into another pause, Greg looked away to recover himself.

“ _And_ speaking of a doubling of Ryans, our latest one is of the Stiles variety.” He flashed a grin at his friend. “We promised to bathe him in inebriatory substances as long as he kept us company in the wild expanses of West Hollywood.”

Ryan, nodding, held up his glass of scotch in a silent cheers. The joint they’d shared just before settling in for the recording was buzzing visibly, and pleasantly, behind the gentle flush on his face.

“So far we seem to be delivering.” Greg taunted over the bridge of his glasses before diving immediately into the next topic with a clear of his throat. “Jennifer sent me this,” as he picked up the news article and took a sip of vodka, “from the San Fransisco Chronicle.”

“The San Fransisco Spokesman for the US Immigrations and Customs Enforcement—you know them as ICE—resigned after the agency’s recent northern California sweep, saying he couldn’t continue to do his job after the T Rump administration’s officials made false public statements about a key aspect of the operation. His name,”

He settled his gaze back on Jennifer, used to delivering his live shows at her, especially when he was nervous. She maintained her keen, knowing gaze, this time from behind the glass of sauvignon blanc she was sipping. The look evaporated instantly when Ryan-with-the-scotch shifted in the armchair across the room, saving Greg from shooting back an inviting stare in full view of their company. He knew that look.

“—is James Schwab and I wanted to mention it because _he’s_ a white guy who did the right thing. He told the Chronicle he was frustrated by repeated statements by officials including US Attorney General Jefferson Beauregard Sessions, formerly a senator from the Confederacy, that roughly eight hundred undocumented immigrants escaped arrest because of Oakland Mayor, Libby Shaaf, another hero, February 24 th warning the public. Schwab _wanted_ the agency to correct the number which he understood to be far lower, and didn’t want to deflect media questions about it. ‘I quit because I didn’t want to perpetuate misleading facts.’ Misleading facts also have another name, you can characterize them by another name; they’re called lies. Misleading facts are lies. That’s all they do, that’s all they wanna do, that’s all they done did, thank you Mr. Schwab.”

The last lines he delivered at Jennifer again, both pained and relieved that the intensity in her look had been dialed way-the-fuck-back towards slow simmer. While Ryan stood and ambled out of the living room for another scotch, a brief glance towards his producer denoted that all was well.

That simmer was in him, too, though, and it bubbled his consistent sauciness a few degrees further than usual over the next hour and change, earning him more than a few eye-rolls from his tall, now very well lubricated colleague. Greg wasn’t exactly sure, but for his two Jennerously poured vodka flavored vodka drinks, there had been at least five scotches tossed back. Not that he minded.

“Ms. Slaughter was _also_ the _only_ microbiologist ever elected to Congress—uh—as Jennifer points out, in this time of anti-Science, where people believe what they _feel_ , it’s important to remember that there was a _real_ scientist in Congr—“

As Greg cast a cursory glance at his friend, he caught Ryan’s dark scowl at his latest words and felt a pang of guilt for twisting his arm so hard to join them. He knew why Ryan never liked to listen to or be present for his podcasts.

“Oh don’t lose hope within the abyss of endless rage, Ry, I’m pointing out horrific absurdities because we must _know_ them, not because there is nothing to be done but succumb to the dark cackle and melting faces of the Russian puppets in the Republican plutocracy.” Greg appealed, but earned only a miserable grimace before Ryan hoisted himself out of the armchair for another drink. So much for the laugh.

Greg and Jennifer exchanged a worried look, and she got up to follow Ryan into the kitchen. Before she left, though, she walked over to the dining room table where Greg sat with his microphone and his notes, stared pointedly at his empty glass and then back at him. His eyes sparkled while he continued talking, and she smiled as she picked the glass up and strolled away. He watched her hair flow behind her for a moment before focusing again. He needed to wrap up.

 

——————

 

“Ryan. Don’t be ridiculous. We have a guest room. I don’t want you in your car this rat-assed. It’s my fault you worked your way up to this, man.” Greg insisted while Ryan continued his search for his keys. “Let me make it up to you in the morning. We’ll get pancakes and put cream on our faces and everything.”

Jennifer stooped tight-lipped in the dining room, busying herself collecting the papers and notes Greg had left, microphone and producer long since gone. When they’d exchanged their worried glance earlier, Jennifer knew Greg was worried about the well-being of their friend, which explained the additional drinks and earnest chat that had followed the podcast. Jennifer had been worried he’d be too drunk to drive home. While Greg had succeeded in curbing the morose rage he’d incited in his friend with his recorded rants, Jennifer certainly hadn’t succeeded in getting Ryan safely out of her house. Pesky safety.

“Stop it, Greg.” Ryan grumbled, increasingly aggravated in the search for his keys, which were hiding in Jennifer’s purse by now. “Jennifer would rather have the house to yourselves. My hotel isn’t more than two miles away. No one wants a pissy wife.”

Jennifer snorted quietly to herself as she shook her head. Even so, a pang of guilt gnawed at her. She could have been more subtle in her interest in getting Ryan home.

“Don’t be silly.” She called out to them, dropping the neat stack of papers on the corner of the table with an intentionally silent sigh. “I happen to love pancakes,” she quipped as she strode over to the pair with a warm smile. Ryan stared at her with worrying, slightly unfocused eyes as he grabbed her hands.

“Are you sure?” He asked. Jennifer couldn’t help but smile back into the soft kindness in his face.  
“Upstairs, man,” Greg announced, settling the matter. Jennifer squeezed Ryan’s hands before letting them go, turning him around, and pushing him in the direction of the stairs.

On the way up, a soft familiar hand pressed supportively at the small of her back, and she reached around to entwine those fingers with her own. Her devilish little smirk reappeared when the hand in hers squeezed gently. He felt guilty, she knew it. Perfect.

 

——

 

When Greg entered their bedroom he looked bushed, eyes bleary from alcohol and his dear friend’s contagious emotions. In the brief moment before he found her eyes just past the door, Jennifer felt guilty, that she shouldn’t. But his whole demeanor lit up just slightly at the sight of her, visibly relieved and relaxed by her presence and it incited her again. Her knowing look returned. Greg paused, staring back before remembering himself and closing their bedroom door the rest of the way without breaking eye contact.

“Darling?” Greg breathed. Jennifer didn’t move, but added a teasing eyebrow to her smile. Not once in their past twenty-eight years had the satisfaction of drawing her husband to her this way—wordlessly—ever faded. His arms wrapped around her as she tucked hers in above his waist, the same way she’d do when tucking underneath his suit jacket. He stared down at her, earnest, content, awaiting her explanation, and she beamed back at him for just a little while longer with coy sparkling eyes, because she could, because this was almost just as fun. Almost. She waited for his eyes to falter, to worry, when the silence lasted just a bit too long. They didn’t, and her insides tingled.

“I love how much presiding you’ve done, lately.” She said softly, pulling just a little closer and then pulling away, letting his hands catch her arms, swaying gently to start them into a silent, gentle dance. Greg followed, one hand closing big and warm against hers, the other circling her waist.  
“I can only go so long without your purrs, you know.” He whispered back, his voice dropping gravelly octaves against her ear. She shivered a tiny bit, and Greg smirked audibly, pulling her waist to his. Jennifer leaned in to breathe her next words into his neck:  
“I can only go so long without yours, either.”

And then she pushed back out of her husband’s embrace, stepping backwards to the bed until she sat down. She watched his eyes flare, recoil, flicker in doubt, and then flare hotly again:

“Oh fuck _yeah_ , Jennifer.”

He was all hers and they knew it. She grinned openly, and he scampered over to kiss her hungrily; they giggled quietly at each others’ lips while they tumbled across their bed.

“Stop!” Jennifer squealed when he found her ticklish spot, and, while he did, he shushed her.  
“Ryan’s right on the other side of the wall!” He breathed, but his breath hitched when a hand cupped and pulled his balls through his pants.  
“Something you should remember.” Jennifer replied, received a suggestive raised eyebrow, and pushed Greg off, strolling into their walk-in closet.

There, she stripped off her clothes in the dark, strapped on her slim dildo, and wrapped herself in a loose, comfortable robe. She placed the tube of lubrication in the robe’s pockets. In that moment, she felt vulnerable, scared, like she was doing something wrong. Experience told her that was exactly why she should walk back out of the closet, so she did, uncertainty in her eyes.

Her Greg was spread in their bed, tucked underneath the blankets, shoes tossed aside. Their eyes met, both uncertain, both vulnerable. Jennifer closed her eyes for a moment as she walked back to the bed and then tucked under the blankets without taking off her robe and curled up with her husband.

They breathed each other in, soft languid wet kisses, legs intertwining, and nearly instantly they both snorted in laughter: she wasn’t the only one with a fully erect penis.

Their vulnerability slipped away gently, soothed under the mounting pressure they were building together. They stripped him of his clothing, languid kisses grew more intense, and when Greg’s breath against her neck threatened towards a moan, she dug her nails hard into the side of his thigh. His breath hitched and he froze; Jennifer gently pushed him onto his back, straddled him, and tossed off that last of the robe still clinging to her, lube long since strategically tucked under a pillow.

“I’d like to preside over our marriage this time, if you will.” She leaned down to murmur before kissing him, grabbing the tube under the pillow next to him. He moaned quietly into her mouth.  
“I do done _yes_ please, baby.” He breathed back, arms circling to trace fingertips along her back until she sat up again.

The snap on the plastic flip-cap on the bottle of lube suddenly seemed excessively demonstratively loud. She felt Greg tense under her as she squeezed the cold lubricant onto her fingers. She knew they were both thinking about Ryan being on the other side of the wall joining their bedroom door.

Jennifer decided to provide a distraction from their thoughts, shifting back to spread his legs and kneel between them. His legs bent up as she leaned down to lick the tip of her husband’s cock as a slick finger slid through his crack. Greg jumped and then relaxed under her, a loud exhale that he notably stopped from a moan.

 _This might be fun,_ she thought to herself as she swallowed him, wet fingers massaging gently at his perineum. _I wonder how quiet he can keep himself if I press hard enough._

Still, he tensed immediately as she slipped the first finger in.  
“Cold?” She murmured between the kisses she placed down his shaft.  
“A little.” He whispered back.

She took her time spreading him open. They’d been traveling constantly for months, and it’d been ages since the last time they’d done this. She breathed soft kisses along the inside of his thighs, pushing in further until he tensed and then relaxed again, further and then—

“Ahmm,” His first little whimper of pleasure. Jennifer grinned as she pressed her cheek against his thigh, massaging her finger there until she could feel the full outline of the walnut shaped bump. Greg sighed deeply, and for that she licked at the tip of his cock again, her long hair tickling over his thighs.

“Fuck.” He whispered, opening his eyes to look at her. She stared straight back as her tongue darted out and she pressed her finger just slightly harder inside him. His head fell back against the pillow with a quiet moan, low and lusty in his throat.  
“More?” Jennifer asked coyly, as if there were actually a question about that.  
“Oh yeah.”

The second finger was easier and this time they stared at each other, breathing through it together. Jennifer studied him, taking her lead from the looks on his face, when to slow down, when to keep going, and when she—“ _OH._ ”—found it again. A burst of pleasure coursed through her as she watched his eyes glitter, face open and eyebrows twisting in pleasure beneath his frames.

“How are you still wearing your glasses?” She asked in entertained disbelief, earning a gentle snort and a small smile.  
“I’m blind and I want to watch you fuck me.” He replied, but he took them off anyway, knowing she wanted him to. She rocked her fingers against his prostate again, an instant reward as his head tossed. The glasses fell off the bed, clattering against the floorboards.  
“Oh do you now?” She tried to keep her tone sultry, but they were both giggling. She leaned over to look. “They’re not broken,” She added turning her attention back to her husband.  
“If they were I’d fucking k—oh my god.” Greg’s threat died in his throat as Jennifer pushed a third finger in and gave him a pump with her other hand.  
“What was that, Greg?” She asked coyly, repeating her ministrations.  
“I’d fucking kill— _Jesus, baby.”_ Greg jumped, his whole body twitching. Jennifer froze.  
“Am I hurting you?” She was always terrified of going too far.  
“Oh fuck no, it’s so good.” Greg whined, squirming to push himself deeper onto her fingers. The image sent sharp tingles down her sides and directly into her groin.  
“I wouldn’t dare break your glasses if you’d kill Jesus over it.” She quipped, fingers gently sliding out, rewarded with the confused look he gave her. He was lost, alright. “Ready?”  
“Oh yeah.”  
“Tell me.” Jennifer insisted as she found the lube again, spreading it copiously over her firm, slim guest-member.  
“I am _so_ ready.”  
“Tell me what you want.”  
“I want you to fuck me, Jennifer.”  
“Do you?” She played coy again, leaning over to crawl closer to his face to watch the desperate pleasure in his eyes blossom.  
“Please, baby.”  
“Please what?”  
“Please fuck me, Jennifer baby, fuck me until I can see nothing but the stars over the peak of Chimborazo on the clearest ni—“

She silenced him with a kiss that he moaned into hungrily. She pressed down on top of him, letting her slicked dildo slide against his cock and instantly he rubbed against her, moaning louder.  
“Shh,” She whispered when they broke for air, to which he only nodded before pulling her lips to his again with a quiet whine. His hands roved over her body, pressing her closer and teasing her back. She let him caress his hands over her breasts, teasing her nipples until they were hard and sent tingles of pleasure through her before pushing him away, sitting back to recover herself from the thrum building deep and lush within her.  
“God, look at you.” Greg murmured, giving her a moment’s pause. His half lidded eyes drank her in, doing nothing to help her quell her own thrum.

Fuck him she did, indeed. The slim little member slid in easily, and Greg cried out before covering his mouth in a panic. _Oh,_ Jennifer thought, _this is going to be good._ She still gave him a moment to adjust to it, just in case, before she moved out, and then slowly back in, holding onto one of his bent legs for balance and guidance. Greg shuddered from head to toe, barely maintaining his silence.

She kept a slow pace, experimentally testing slightly different angles to see which one would melt him further, meanwhile running a soft teasing finger in swirling circles up and down his cock, sliding easily with a little lube. It was just enough to tease, not to bring the means to an end.

People always say sex is the best when you’re young. When it’s always hard and fast and desperate, when you can go at it over and over again to achieve the same quick, reckless bucking orgasm. Jennifer gazed down at her husband: hands clenched in the sheets, disheveled hair and eyes screwed up tight, short ragged breaths, chest rising and falling in staccato, light sheen of sweat glinting ever so slightly in the glow from the bedside lamp. Her pace rose slowly, the tracing finger on his shaft slowly deepening in pressure, joined eventually by more fingers that slowly made a grip. He was coming apart like meat from a slow roasted brisket, pliant, thread-bare, flavorful, unbearably delicious, and worth the goddamn wait. Fuck those people and their kids-sex; she’d take this any day over a sweaty nervous fuck in a closet.

Her legs were beginning to shake slightly from exertion when she finally gripped his member firmly. His quiet high-pitched whine turned back into a desperate groan as his eyes flew open at her, silently begging to be sent down the homestretch. They stared each other down as her thrusts slowed, a slick hand firmly and wetly matching each thrust, Greg’s mouth slowly opening breathlessly. As goosebumps trembled over his skin, an elongated _mewl_ dredged out of him that Jennifer was sure was too loud, but was no longer able to care, mesmerized with the view and _so_ turned on feeling the gushes of wet spurting and dribbling through her fingers. She kept this up until no more of his spunk spilt out, and then more gently until he spasmed and a hand darted out to stop hers.

She slipped out soon after that, knowing he’d be impatient about it, but he shuddered through it anyway, yanking her down into his arms to recover himself into her hair. God, did she love that, tiny whimpers and breaths at her throat, all hers. They stayed this way a while until Greg chuckled quietly, the rumble echoing into her back.  
“You think he heard that?”  
Jennifer had to choke back a laugh. “If he didn’t he’s dead.”  
“Shit.”  
“There’s a small chance we’re lucky and he really passed out.”  
“Mmm.”

Greg’s hand slid down her side, finding the buckle on her strap to unfasten it. She stretched, turning so he could release her from the harness, and they both snorted when it made an unceremonious thunk onto the floor.

“If that shit touches my glasses…” Greg warned, warm and gentle against her ear.  
“They’re on the other side of the bed, wiseass.” She pressed closer. Her back was sticky from him, now, and exhaustion started to set in.

After a little bit he pulled away, disappearing as he padded towards the bathroom, and Jennifer found herself drifting until she felt a soft towel at her back, cleaning her off, shifting into a massage.

“Greg,” she murmured, turning to look at him, “you’re exhausted.”  
“I’ll sleep like a goddamn baby, but there’s an altar at which I must worship, first.” He purred gravelly into her ear, and planted a trail of kisses that started with her eyes and lead south. When his lips met her vulva, still wet with her earlier excitement, she shuddered. A tongue and a finger came out to greet her, and she silently promised herself to be quiet. Just in… _oh just like that,_ …just in case…

 

————

 

By the time it was Jennifer’s sighs that drifted through the wall, Ryan’s wide eyes stared at nothing. His hand, still sticky, wiped against the sheets before he realized— _no, you fucking idiot, now they’ll know_ —and his eyes squeezed painfully shut as he twisted into the fetal position in the guest bed. The shame was so great it made him tremble. Tremble against the discovery, the yearning, the desperate want to feel it himself, how much more turned on he’d been by his colleague’s cries than the woman’s pleasure he was hearing now…

It was too much to bear. He hugged a pillow to his chest, wondering if there was some method through which he could simply disappear.


	2. Jennifer Sent Me This (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colin tries to find out what's been bugging his friend.

“Ryan.” Colin stared his friend down from across the hotel room he’d fought his way into. Several days had elapsed, and the tapings were almost over.  
“What.” Ryan didn’t even look up from the scattered, inefficient packing he was busying himself with.  
“What the fuck, Ry.”

At this he finally looked up nervously to find Colin watching him, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall by the bathroom. Colin’s face was stern, but his eyes were gentle and worried. Another flash of terror coursed through him and he swallowed, turning back to his stupid suitcase.

“Something’s been up with you the past few days.” Colin started again, walking closer to him. Ryan shrank at the proximity, as if it were somehow threatening. The reaction felt humiliating and he scowled at himself, still saying nothing.

“Ry.” Colin was right next to him now.  
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He growled.  
“Ry?” Colin repeated more gently. Ryan saw the hand moving to touch his arm and jumped back.  
“I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.” He roared, hating himself as he watched Colin recoil in shock at the outburst. _I’m sorry_ , Ryan thought to himself, hoping he looked wretched enough to convey it, because suddenly he couldn’t speak anymore.

A variety of looks flashed at lightning speed across Colin’s eyes before he shook his head and sighed, stepping closer again. Ryan didn’t stop him this time and Colin grabbed his shoulder firmly, using it to press him to a seat on the bed next to his suitcase. Ryan stared at his hands in the silence that followed.

“I know we don’t really talk anymore, but I’ve never seen you like this.” Colin said quietly, and Ryan closed his eyes, as if this would make the situation disappear. “And I’m not leaving until you tell me,” he added, making Ryan’s eyes squeeze shut harder. “Or I get hungry. We’re supposed to meet Brad and Wayne for dinner in three hours.”

This, at least, got a little chuckle out of Ryan, and he looked up at Colin with a heavy sigh. Colin’s eyebrows furrowed and for a moment he scrambled, trying to decide what to do before turning decidedly to the minibar. A tiny whiskey flew Ryan’s way and he barely caught it, shaking his head at Colin’s gentle laugh.

“Really? You’re going to liquor me up at four in the afternoon?” He asked dryly.  
“Yep.” Colin shrugged, smiling and handing him a beer, too, before retreating to sit at the little desk across the way.  
“What about you?” Ryan asked, and Colin flashed his two tiny vodkas at him.  
“I’m feeling Gregorian this afternoon.”  
“Aren’t you cheeky.”  
“Bottoms up, mm?” Colin gave him a pointed look, the top of his tiny bottle crackling as he turned it, breaking the seal.

Ryan’s terror threatened to wash back into the driver’s seat, realizing where this would lead. He glanced worriedly at his friend before cracking open the tiny whiskey top. He guzzled it and immediately cracked open the beer. Colin, to his credit, knew this wasn’t the time to sip and knocked his first tiny vodka back, too.

“I’m going to need another one of those.” Ryan grumbled, tossing the empty whiskey bottle at his friend, who caught it easily and deposited it into the small trash can under the desk.  
“Make some work of that beer first,” Colin said back, yet he cracked open his second tiny vodka.  
“Oh so you—“ Ryan started accusingly, but Colin cut him off.  
“I’m going to need this for whatever the fuck you’re about to tell me.” And down the hatch tiny vodka number two went.

Ryan smiled wryly to himself, took a few healthy gulps of his beer, and shook his head. Yes, Colin would.

“Greg finally wrangled me into attending one of his podcast things from his house.” Ryan told the can of beer, pausing to wait for the exclamation he was expecting. Nothing happened. The silence ticked by until finally he spoke again, looking up as he finished.  
“I was expecting you to ask if listening to Greg bitch was what had my knickers all up in a twist.” He was kind of annoyed until he saw the face before him.  
“ _I_ was expecting you to look at my face!” Colin maintained his look of shocking disbelief on purpose as he delivered his retort, and Ryan couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out, looking away to hold it together as if they were on stage.

“So it wasn’t Greg.” Colin prompted.  
“Well, it was.” Ryan started, realized the layers of his own statement, and guzzled back some more beer. “In a way.” He added. “I got upset.”  
“The topics.” Colin added, to be sure. Ryan nodded.  
“You know how I get with that piece of shit that’s purportedly the fucking president.”

Out of nowhere, another tiny whisky was flying at him; he caught it and twisted it open immediately.

“How long are you going to keep this up?” He asked just before knocking it back.  
“Until you can’t catch them anymore,” was the dry response.  
“This is going on my hotel bill, you know.” Ryan spat, just to cover his amusement.  
“You can afford it. So you were upset.”

“I was. So I did exactly what we’re doing now, I knocked too many back.” This part of the story was easy. “Greg felt bad.”  
“GREG FELT _BAD_?!?!” Colin seemed determined to keep some semblance of comedy, but Ryan was too terrified to show his gratefulness as honestly as he felt.  
“ _I_ wanted to leave. Jennifer _definitely_ wanted me to leave.”  
“That doesn’t seem like her. Why do you think so?”

In that moment, Ryan forgave her odd abruptness that night, thanked her silently for wanting to save him from this. It was a private affair. Between her and Greg. Right? Private. Private.

“She didn’t want me around.” Ryan murmured, sulking to the minibar himself this time, beer abandoned.

He pulled two tiny whiskeys out, and as an after thought, two more tiny vodkas. When he arrived at Colin to deliver them, he found an earnest, open face.

“I’m not asking for the minutes, Ryan.” Colin said gently.

_Oh._ Ryan realized, sitting back down on the bed. _I don’t have to recount every godforsaken minute of this humiliating experience. I can summarize._

“They were right, I was too drunk to drive back here. I knew it.” Ryan sighed, cracking open the next one. “Jennifer went out of her way to make it clear, it was sweet. She turned me around and marched me up the stairs herself.” He tossed his new empty at Colin, who caught it again. “Greg followed me into their guest room to offer me ‘jammy jams,’ but I wasn’t having any of that.”

“What was the problem, Ry.” Colin wanted the point, and at that his terror resurged. Crackle, went the next tiny whiskey top.  
“They fucked. Loudly.” Ryan uttered into his hands.  
“There’s no way that THAT’S what—“  
“STOP IT, Col.” He took a deep breath, out of tiny bottles, and looked at his oldest friend. It felt like the most terrifying moment of his life. “She fucked _him._ He loved it.”

Colin chuckled, and Ryan’s eyes narrowed in immediate indignation.

“What the—“  
“Good for them!” Colin stood, walking back to the minibar.  
“It was—“  
“You need to loosen up.” Colin shut him up, two more tiny whiskeys appearing cold against his hand.  
“What the _fuck_ are you talking about, Col.”  
“Let me guess. The problem isn’t that he loved it, it was that you did.”

Ryan jerked back, and Colin sighed, resigning back to his chair at the desk and cracking open a tiny vodka. The silence that followed filled Ryan with adrenaline and it coursed painfully through his veins.

“What’s so wrong with pegging?” Colin asked as Ryan shot back another, choking on it. Colin waited to make sure he was actually okay before continuing. “D’you think this is some sort of attack on your masculinity or something?”

Ryan stared at his hands.

“It’s great fun, by the way.” Colin added, and Ryan started, staring at him in alarm. “Just tell Pat.”  
“Tell her what?!” Ryan burst incredulously, standing as his arms gesticulated wildly. “Honey, I brought home this dildo that I’d like to you strap on and fuck me up the ass, how was lunch with the neighbors?”  
“Yes.”  
“There’s no way—“ Ryan cut himself off to pace.  
“It’s called having a healthy sex life, Ry.”  
“I hardly fucking _have_ a sex life, I can’t believe I’m even talking about this,” Ryan said to the wall, and moving to squeeze the bridge of his nose.  
“Well, this ought to sauce that up.” Colin simpered.  
“When the fuck did _you_ get so experimental?!”  
“I’ve been quoted in articles talking about my transgender daughter asking me in her youth about fellatio, and you think my attitude about pegging is strange?”

This finally gave Ryan pause, and he stared at the even look in Colin’s face, as if they were discussing groceries rather than, than… 

“You what?” He asked quietly, and Colin sighed, shaking his head and opening a little tiny vodka.  
“I swear, in the nearly forty years we’ve known each other, the internet knows more about me than you do, and that’s sad.”

Ryan sank back down onto the bed. It was true, he was that much of a shut-in.  
“But you want to know, don’t you.” Colin said so as a matter of fact, without any inflection to his words.  
“No.” Ryan mumbled, laying down to curl up. _Make this situation disappear,_ he thought.  
“Not to sound like an argumentative LA spouse, but you need to be doing a little more yes-anding right now.” Colin sighed, meandering over to sit on the edge of the bed. Ryan snorted despite himself.

When Colin moved to put a sympathetic hand on his arm, though, Ryan nearly jumped out of his skin all over again.

“RYAN. You realize we’ve made entire fucking careers out of touching each other on stage. Cut it out before you actually start hurting my feelings.” Colin snapped.  
“Fuck. I know. I’m sorry.” Ryan mumbled miserably into the comforter, wanting to cry. He waited for Colin’s hand to come back to his arm, relieved when it did.

“So how loud was he?” Colin asked after a short silence.  
“Oh my god.” Ryan groaned, and Colin laughed. “Now I know why Jennifer wanted me out of the house.” He added, starting to laugh a little himself. Somehow the laughing made it less scary, less taboo.  
“Hey, at least she wasn’t going to let an old drunkard like you get in the way of her good time.” Colin added. Ryan felt a pang of anxiety rush up, but there was finally enough whiskey in him to be able to let it out.  
“She even had him begging,” Ryan choked out, and then the two of them were howling in laughter.

“I’ve been known to do a little begging from time to time myself.” Colin said as their laughter subsided. Ryan looked up at him incredulously.  
“Seriously?”  
“It’s powerful stuff, Ry.”

Ryan watched him, echoes of the sounds that haunted him playing back again, staring into his friend’s eyes as if somewhere in there he would find the acceptance at what had made him shiver that night. Colin flashed him a grin before pushing off the bed.

“You’re blushing, Ry. Just tell Pat.” Colin said, and Ryan groaned before getting hit in the leg by another tiny whiskey. He sat back up.  
“It’s not just that.” He said quietly, tossing the tiny whiskey back. Colin sat next to him, waiting patiently. “It’s pretty fucking horrifying to discover that _Greg_ might be able to hot you up, you know?” He added, shivering. _There. It’s out._  
“Greg _lives_ to hot the whole _world_ up.” Colin replied gently, rubbing Ryan’s back just a little. “Is that why you’re afraid to tell her?”  
“No, no. I—what if I don’t like it?” Ryan turned to look his friend with wide fear-riddled eyes.  
“Then you don’t do it anymore. You can always stop.” Colin’s eyes stared back at him gently. Ryan sighed, looking away.  
“I’m not sure I want to go through the process of trying to convince my wife that I’m not a freakazoid only to discover I don’t like it anyway.” He said to his hands.

Ryan felt like he was melting into the silence that ensued, a miserable abyss of emptiness.

“Well, you trust me, right?” He heard Colin say next.  
“Of course bu—“ He stopped to stare in alarm. Colin watched back impassively.  
“And you’ve already gone through all the trouble.”  
“Wh-what are you saying.” Ryan whispered, his heart suddenly pounding with the full bravado of a stampede.  
“And I don’t think you’re freakazoid or whatever the hell you just said.” Colin finished, small smile peeking out as he finished.

Ryan stood, rushing over to the mini bar. His hands were shaking as he grabbed another tiny bottle, tipping it back.

“Plus it would make all the puppet jokes funnier.” Colin added dryly, and Ryan choked on the whiskey, laughing and sputtering.  
“Are you insane?” He finally managed to say, sitting down again.  
“I’m just offering to help.” Colin shrugged, and Ryan just stared at him.  
“Why?”  
“Because I love you and I’d really like you to stop jumping around like an electrified sheep every fifteen seconds.”

Ryan just stared. _Say no and get it over with._

“Go on.” Colin said gently. “Go pee, and come back with any lotion you can find.”  
“I can’t do this,” Ryan said, but very shakily stood, anyway, slowly edging his way towards the bathroom.  
“Sure you can.” Colin said, “Just pretend I’m Greg.”

Ryan spun around to glare at him and Colin laughed, winked, and went back over to the mini bar. Ryan, unable to believe himself, turned back towards the bathroom.

“Tell me he said something ridiculous and corny when she made him beg.” Colin called out to him, and for some reason this made him laugh instead of further terrifying him.  
“Actually he did,” Ryan called back, hearing the clink of more alcohol from the minibar, a thunk as his suitcase hit the ground. “Something about seeing only the stars on top of some fucking mountain, what was it—“ Ryan paused, and Colin’s laughter filled the silence. “Chimborazo or something?” Colin’s laughter from the bedroom redoubled.

Ryan had actually forgotten he was shaking until he finally located the hotel lotion bottle— _why the fuck is everything in this hotel fucking tiny?_ —and it nearly rattled in his hand. So did the glass of wine Colin handed him when he returned.

“Are we out of booze already?” Ryan tried to sound casual.  
“Yes.” Colin said, putting his hands on the sides of Ryan’s shoulders, making him jump nervously again. “Relax. It’s just me, remember?”

Ryan nodded, swallowing audibly. “Well, now what?” He asked his wine glass.

Colin squeezed his arms gently. “You drink that, I’m going to go wash my hands, and you strip down and get under the covers so we can find your peaks of Chimborazo.” This had them both tittering again.  
“I think I’d be dying right now if you didn’t keep making me laugh.”  
“I know.”

Ryan found he could barely choke down the wine, so he just busied himself with his pants and dove under the covers without removing anything else, shivering. When Colin reappeared, he toed off his shoes and slid in next to him.The pair tucked together, not looking at the other.

“Well I guess you should think of things that turn you on,” Colin murmured, “you know, like my shiny head, or—“ Something in Ryan snapped, and he grabbed Colin’s face and kissed him, firmly, desperately, but with closed lips. Colin didn’t fight him, lips soft against the pressure and awkward fear. When Ryan felt a gentle hand slipping softly against his hair he snapped back, trembling, eyes wide. Colin smiled back at him gently.

“See? Nothing we haven’t done before.” Colin murmured. Ryan let out a miserable whine, closing his eyes as he tucked Colin in close, an arm sliding over his friend’s back. Colin hugged him back, sighing at his trembles. He felt Colin’s lips brush his neck and it sent tingles all the way down to his feet. He let out a cry without realizing it, trying to catch it in his throat, along with any semblance of control. Colin pulled away from him, holding Ryan’s face in his hands.

“What are you afraid of?” Colin asked quietly while Ryan stared back. “Is it feeling emasculated?” One of his hands drifted down from Ryan’s cheek to press firmly in the center of his chest. Ryan wondered if Colin could feel how fast his heart was hammering.

“Is it being on the receiving end of pleasure?” His hand slid steadily south. “Is it that maybe you’re attracted to—“ Ryan felt Colin’s fingers falter for a moment when they reached the top of his briefs. “—men, sometimes?” and then Ryan felt his best friend’s hand on his half-hard erection. He whimpered at the instant shock of pleasure and brought Colin to his lips again.

He knew he shouldn’t, that this wasn’t part of the deal, but he brushed his tongue along Colin’s lips and was granted entry, and it was so good, he pressed into Colin’s hand and they pushed impossibly closer as their kiss deepened and that’s when it happened: Colin moaned just ever so slightly into his mouth.

He pulled back to search Colin’s eyes, and Colin gave him a sheepish little smile. His eyes were just slightly glazed, just enough to make it true, to make it real. Ryan breathed a heavy sigh of relief, as if somehow this changed everything and made it okay. Colin’s sheepish smile turned impish as his hand slipped beneath Ryan’s briefs and he sat up, tugging at them. Ryan let him shimmy them down and then off.

“This doesn’t seem fair.” He said, surprised by the huskiness that had snuck into his voice.  
“How so?” Colin murmured, looking for something.  
“I’m half naked and you’re not.” He aimed what he hoped was a cute frown at his friend.  
“You’ll deal.” Colin replied dryly, and suddenly Ryan’s cock was being pumped by a slick hand, knocking the breath out of him. “Who knew,” Colin chuckled softly. “That you weren’t kidding about having to swing it over your shoulder for safe keeping.”  
Ryan laughed softly with him. “Who knew I’d get a hand job from Prince Charm—“ but jumped, tensing immediately when he felt fingers brushing dangerously close on the inside of his thigh.  
“Easy. Breathe. I promise I won’t do anything without telling you and making sure it’s okay.” Colin said, slowing his strokes. Ryan closed his eyes, nodding, and took a deep breath. “Bend your legs up a bit, will you?”

They were quiet for a moment, and Ryan tried to breathe through the delicious sensation of the hand sliding along this length with an occasional wrenching swirl over the tip.  
“Good?” He heard Colin ask and he nodded, keeping his eyes closed.  
“Yeah.” He whispered.  
“I’m just going to put a hand on your perineum, okay?”

Ryan didn’t move as the tips of fingers danced lightly over his balls before pressing gently on the sensitive patch of skin below them. The fingers massaged there, and it sent a thrum of pleasure through his entire groin. Ryan’s head tossed, and he wished he had the courage to open his eyes.

“Better?” Colin asked again, and Ryan moaned quietly in answer. “If you like that it’s going to get a hell of a lot better soon.”

Still, when one of the slick fingers moved down to press over his entrance, Ryan stiffened completely.

“Well, it’ll feel a little weird first before it gets better.” Colin murmured.  
“It-it won’t hurt will it?” Ryan asked, finally opening his eyes.  
“Not if you relax.” Colin replied, and Ryan stared at him, at the flush over his face, the slightly glassy look in his eyes. He took a deep breath and tried to do as he was told.

Colin pressed his finger in ever so slowly, and Ryan was glad his other hand had resumed stroking him, because it felt really weird.

“Let’s play a game.” Colin said next, and Ryan closed his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose before attempting to answer, feeling himself beginning to soften in his friend’s hand. As if this wasn’t humiliating enough, yet.

“It’s called weird, weirder, and good.” Colin continued. Ryan wanted to disappear. “You tell me. There’s weird, weirder, good, and slow down.” Ryan swallowed, nodding without opening his eyes.

“Weirder.” He grumbled, and the finger paused, giving Ryan a chance to catch his breath. Then it resumed again, gently pushing in and forward.

“Weirder, weirder.” He added frantically.  
“Do you want me to slow down?”  
“Yes.”

Ryan took a few more deep breaths. Colin didn’t push in any further, but he massaged where he was.

“I think we’ve toned it back down to weird.”  
“Good!” Colin sounded so pleased Ryan opened his eyes again to see the grin he knew was there. Ryan smirked, shaking his head just slightly.  
“Could you—uh,” He started to ask uncomfortably.  
“Yeah.” Colin answered, and resumed his stroking.

Ryan hummed at the sensation, watching Colin’s grin grow even wider. _I guess this isn’t so bad…_

And then it hit him, several times harder than that thrum he’d felt at his perineum, a wave of titillating pleasure that coursed through his entire body. He felt his jaw drop as he stared at Colin, a deep, throaty moan leaving his lips of its own volition, surprising him.

“I think we found it…” Colin said in mirthful singsong.  
“Oh fuck off, Captain H-“ Ryan started, but Colin rocked into him just a little more forcefully than before and only gibberish came out of him.  
“Fuck _ing_ , I’d say.” Colin quipped. Ryan could only moan; he’d never felt anything like this before in his life.

“More?” Colin’s voice seemed to float over to him from another dimension, and he wasn’t sure how much time had passed.  
“I don’t even know what that means.” Ryan replied, terror momentarily drawing out from where it had been banished to.  
“Well, we could get another finger in there, or—“  
“NO. No.” A streak of adrenaline threatened to overcome the wave of pleasure.  
“Let’s see if you like a little more pressure.” Colin continued as if he hadn’t been cut off.

Another burst of warmth coursed through him, too intense, and he shuddered through an exhale.

“Too much?” Colin, ever present, ever gentle.  
“I…”  
“How about this?”

Colin pulled his finger back out just ever so slightly and then back in with the same heavier pressure, pushed over his prostate and past it, and then back out, withdrawing without any pressure. Ryan was sure his skin was melting, crying out again. Panting, he stared at Colin, knowing his face—hell, his entire body—was flushed several thousand shades of red.

“I think that’s our winner.” Colin smirked, repeating the stroke.  
“Oh my god.” Ryan breathed, unsure if he was able to speak.  
“Just you wait.” Colin whispered back.

Colin kept at it, slowly increasing his pace while Ryan just tried to breathe, tried to remember himself amidst writhing. When the hand returned to his member— _when did he even stop_ —he gasped. Colin matched his strokes inversely, and Ryan was convinced the edges of reality were melting under the power of the deep pleasure coursing through him, unable to stop staring at the glassy lust-tinged stare in Colin’s eyes, the blush on his face. He could feel it building, beyond any measure he’d ever experienced before, and he started shivering. Colin’s eyes were the only thing that anchored him to this dimension as the pressure mounted, unbearable, delicious, impossible…

He actually _yelled_ when he came, gasping for air as if he’d been suffocating under water, every exhale dripping with moans that vibrated in his chest and kept going and going and going; he glanced down at his penis, unable to believe it was still dribbling a little. And jesus, he’d never seen so much of his own spunk splattered across his stomach and chest, already soaking into his shirt. It was equally arousing and shocking.

Slowly Colin stopped, and Ryan trembled as the finger slipped out, still gasping for air. He looked up, heavy lidded, at Colin. Colin was biting his lower lip, looking even redder than he had before. Ryan grinned, unable to do anything but gaze in adoration.

“That was hot, Ry.” Colin stared back at him steadily, doing nothing to mask his desire.  
“Thanks… thanks for not making me beg.” Ryan’s voice returned at the same time as his wit.

Colin’s eyes glittered as he laughed, pushing off Ryan’s knees to get off the bed.

“Where are you going?” Ryan asked, feeling the absence immediately.  
“I’ll be right back.” Colin smiled, disappearing into the bathroom.

Ryan lay, listening to the sounds of the faucet running, as the overwhelming sensation over his skin began to subside enough for him to feel functional. A new desire thrummed through his chest, and he eyed the corner around which the bathroom was with longing.

When Colin returned, his flush had lessened considerably, and he sat on the edge of the bed, tossing Ryan a towel with which to clean up while he dried his hands with another one. Ryan wiped at his shirt for a while before just giving up and tossing it off, chuckling quietly to himself and glancing to see if Colin was watching. He was.

“Impressive, huh?” Colin asked, tossing his towel aside with a sigh.  
“Congratulating yourself already?” Ryan asked, sitting up, immediately a little dizzy.  
“No,” Colin laughed, “I didn’t mean—you alright?” He cut himself off to steady Ryan with a hand to his shoulder. Ryan took a deep breath, making sure he was steady before he looked earnestly back at Colin.

“Yes,” He said, sitting on his knees to close the distance between them. “Thank you. For this.” He finished, inches away from Colin’s face, searching it all over again. The glassy lust that had disappeared from Colin’s eyes glimmered back briefly.  
“My pleasure.” Colin murmured, and Ryan kissed him again, his hand cupping the bottom of his jaw where it met his neck, letting his fingers brush lightly against Colin’s skin. Colin shivered but didn’t pull away until Ryan did, leaning his forehead against Colin’s.  
“Not _yet_.” Ryan whispered, and pulled Colin to his lips again, running his tongue across Colin’s lower lip. Colin jumped, pulling back, but Ryan followed him, a tiny whine escaping him that he was no longer able to care about after all the sounds that had flown out of him this afternoon. Colin fought him a moment more before relenting, tongues swirling together again, moaning quietly into each other’s mouths.

Ryan’s other hand traced down Colin’s ever-clothed chest to pull at his belt buckle, and Colin tossed, jumping back, caught by the hand tucked into the rim of his pants.

“Ry…” Colin’s voice was dripping equally with warning as it was squirming desire and Ryan pushed further, trying to pin Colin on the bed. Colin fought him with tremendous strength, Ryan knew he’d lose but he couldn’t stop.

“Ryan, please. I just wanted to help you—“  
“I saw it,” Ryan pressed, matching his half of the tackle as hard as he could, “I saw you. I saw you. I saw you.” He repeated, unable to stop the waves of lust, of pleasure, of desire leaking out of his voice.  
“Ry—“ Colin choked, but they fell back onto the bed, and while Colin’s hand hung over Ryan’s, it didn’t stop him from undoing the belt this time, and Ryan made quick work of the button and fly.

“I just wanted to help you, I didn’t want to…” Colin gasped when the spidery hand gripped him.  
“Where did the lotion go?” Ryan was impressed at how suddenly prescient he was, how unperturbed he was at Colin’s panic and fight. He found it quickly and without Colin’s help.

“Ry, that wasn’t my point, I…” Colin gasped as Ryan’s hand slicked over his member.  
“I saw you, please. Let me.”  
“I didn’t mean…” Colin stopped when Ryan found the right way to slide his hand up and down, delighting in the way Colin’s face went through iterations of pleasure. “Ry, please,” Colin moaned, letting his head fall on Ryan’s shoulder, “That wasn’t my point, I don’t want to—“ a guttural groan from Colin, here, “—cross the line, I… I… _fuck_ , Ry.” Colin whined. Ryan’s lips were at the end of his jaw, a hand pumping his length just slowly enough to tease.

“Please don’t,” Colin breathed, and for a moment Ryan felt guilty, knowing he could stop at any moment, knowing he was crossing Colin’s boundaries as far as Colin had crossed his own, but that Colin hadn’t asked for it…

“Col, please.” Ryan whimpered into his ear, and then sucked the lobe into his mouth, tightening his grip over Colin’s engorged member. The desperate whimper was all the response he needed, pumping up and down as he breathed, moaned, and nipped at Colin’s neck.

Colin struggled to stop him before he gave in, relaxing into Ryan’s embrace with a miserable moan and then clung to him, thrusting into Ryan’s hand so seductively that Ryan thought he might get hard all over again.

It didn’t take long, Ryan thought to himself, before the wet from Colin’s orgasm slid against his palm, and god did it feel good, a helpless whine of pleasure coming out of Colin’s throat just under his lips.

Colin shuddered under his grip immediately, and then tore his entire body away. Ryan was left frozen, staring, adrenaline coursing through him once more.

Colin sat shakily on the edge of the bed, giving Ryan a vulnerable, nervous look as he buttoned his pants.

“I shouldn’t have let you do that.” Colin murmured, shaking his head.  
“I—“ Ryan started, desperate but at a complete loss as to what to say.  
“I know. It’s okay. I just… I shouldn’t have let you.” Colin cut him off, and with a shudder, stood off the bed.

Ryan, without thinking about it, puddled off the bed after him.

“Ry.” Colin’s hands on his shoulders were firm. The lust-laden glassiness in his eyes was gone, replaced with the puppy-eyed seriousness Ryan had known so long. He looked away, shrinking as the reality of what he’d done sunk in.  
“I’m sorry,” Ryan whispered miserably, shrugging Colin’s hands off his shoulders, but placing his own hands on Colin’s arms. “I know I shouldn’t have done that. We can forget this ever happened. I don’t want to… I don’t want to mess anything up any more than I already have.”He finished miserably, but with enough courage to keep holding Colin’s gaze. Colin smiled sadly.  
“I wish I hadn’t let you do that, but I’m not sorry you opened up to me about this.” And with that, Colin smiled brightly, winked, and stepped away, glancing at his watch. Ryan, suddenly remembering himself, turned to grab his pants.

“We have about an hour. Take a shower and meet me in my room. Brad left me a joint I think we could use before dinner.”

Colin looked at him brightly, and Ryan laughed, truly, deeply.

“Thanks, Col. See you there.”

They grinned at each other, and that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought you should all know that I'm traveling (today is 05/27) and when I first got to my hotel room and saw there was a mini bar, I opened it, discovered a tiny whiskey, squealed, drank it, saw a tiny vodka, squealed again, and then saw the price list and stopped myself. :D  
> Next time I think I'll drink tiny beverages on Ryan's tab. ;)


	3. Jennifer Sent Me This (Part 3)

“I know he’ll never admit to this, so I thought it my duty to ask you to thank your wife.”  
“…That’s a great way to start a murder mystery novel.” Greg supposed, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he rinsed out the last of their lunch plates, leaning down to line them into the dishwasher.  
Colin chuckled on the other end of the line. “I suppose there isn’t a subtle way to say this, but Ryan heard you two when he stayed over your place last week.”  
“Oh, kittens.” Greg muttered, blushing as he slammed the dishwasher door closed, starting to pace in the kitchen. “That would explain the tremendously abrupt exit the next morning.”  
“You should have offered him pancakes.”  
“I did!” Greg exclaimed, earning another chuckle from Colin. “But what does this have to do with thanking Jennifer?”  
“Well, apparently her ministrations were inspiring. As were your…uh, responses.”

Greg started, unsure of what to say. Colin’s laugh bordered on the edge of giggle territory.

“That’s somehow discomfiting and flattering at the same time.” Greg finally decided on, shrugging as he held the phone back to his ear with his hand.  
“He was really off the next couple days, not on stage I mean, but otherwise jumpy and snappy and avoiding everyone, so I finally confronted him about it.”  
“I can’t imagine that went well.” Greg sighed. Ryan’s occasional temper was as well known as his own.  
“Depends on what you mean by well…” Colin replied quietly. Greg raised an eyebrow.  
“Feel free to elucidate at any point, Captain Vague.”  
“I’ll happily take Captain Vague over Captain Hair, really.”  
“Not happening, Broheim.” Greg added dryly, and heard Colin’s heavy sigh. A small silence followed.

“Let’s just say I helped an old friend out with some stuff he was too afraid to bring to his wife first.” Colin admitted, and Greg squealed at his phone.  
“Colin!”  
“And you didn’t think Whose Line could get any gayer.” Colin deadpanned. Greg burst out laughing, unable to control himself. When Jennifer edged into the kitchen, wariness etched all over her face, Greg nearly doubled over.

“I didn’t realize it was that funny.” Colin said dryly, but Greg could hear the entertainment hiding behind his words.  
“Jennifer just walked in looking at me like I’m some kind of treacherous criminal,” Greg gasped between laughs as he calmed himself, and Colin joined him in laughter.

“You just squealed and started laughing maniacally. You’re lucky I proceeded at all, let alone with caution.” Jennifer quipped, a small smirk growing on her face as Greg grinned openly at her.  
“You have no idea how much gayer you’ve made Whose Line, baby.” Greg said, earning a baffled look as she closed the distance between them.  
“How could Whose Line _possibly_ get any gayer?!” She replied loudly so that Colin could hear her, and the boys redoubled in laughter for a moment. She shook her head as she smiled at Greg, resting her hand on his waist. Greg put his phone on speakerphone, leaning into her touch.

“This is going to make stage flirting so much better.” Greg chuckled, earning another baffled look from Jennifer.  
“I’d be careful with that,” Colin cleared his throat, “I got pinned afterwards.”  
“There’s no way he can pin _you_ , Captain _Hair,_ ” Emphasizing the age-old nickname just to snark at Colin’s earlier quip. “You could throw him across the room if you wanted to.”  
“Yeah, uh.” Colin cleared his throat again. “I started to stop him, and then I… didn’t.”

Greg and Jennifer stared at each other with jaws fallen open.

“Wow.” Greg finally said, knowing this was awkward enough for Colin to confess.  
“Not my proudest moment.” Colin sighed, and Greg could practically see the accompanying shrug.  
“Wh-what did Deb say?”  
“We’re okay.” Colin replied, finally sounding relaxed. “Let’s just say Jennifer isn’t the only one who owns a strap on, and that my sins have been absolved.”

At this they all laughed again.

“Deb the Avenger! Glad to hear that.” Greg said warmly, because he meant it. “But what inspired this confession?”  
“Like I said, I know he’ll never admit to it, so I wanted to extend thanks to Jennifer on his behalf. He needed that.” Greg smiled, looking at Jennifer.

“Colin says thanks on Ryan’s behalf.” He said to Jennifer, as if she hadn’t already heard it. Colin snorted, Jennifer grinned, looking away to stop from laughing.  
“Glad to be of…service? And please don’t make Whose Line any gayer, Greg.” Jennifer replied.  
“I told you! I don’t make any case for it!” Greg implored, and Colin cackled.

“Are you back in Torontonia?” Greg asked, directing his attention back to the phone call.  
“I am, and Kin’s heading over soon to hang with us before dinner, so I’ve got to let you go.”  
“Alright. Send her and Deb our love.”  
“Take care.”

Greg hung up his phone, placing it on the counter while giving Jennifer a bewildered look.

“I…really don’t know what to do with that information.” Greg sighed uncomfortably. Jennifer beamed.  
“I do.”

 ———

 Ryan sighed contentedly, watching the four dogs sniffing and scampering happily about him on the edge of the lake, smiling quietly to himself as they stopped to follow him without a word as he made his way back towards his house. He meandered over to the front, eyeing a small package on the doorstep. It was late in the afternoon on a Saturday, and the kids were out with their friends. Before stepping onto the porch, he paused again to gaze at the oranges, pinks and reds in the sky, silhouetting the landscape of trees.

_It doesn’t get any better than this,_ Ryan thought to himself, turning to open the door to let the dogs scramble in and picking up the package by the door. As the door closed behind him, he glanced at the label, confused when he saw his own name. He couldn’t remember ordering anything recently. Nothing that small, anyway.

He meandered over to the dining room table, finding a pair of scissors to break the seal open with. On top of the bubble wrap was an Amazon gift receipt with the following message:

 

<3  
\- Jennifer

 

Ryan’s heart started pounding immediately, and he could feel himself start to sweat. He closed the box as if it contained a curse and practically ran up the stairs to his bedroom, wondering _how did she know how did she know how did she know_ , closing the door behind him.

His hands shook as he opened it up again, setting it down on the edge of the bed. The only explanation he could come up with was that Colin must have told them, and he was strongly considering hating him that very moment. Unrolling the bubble wrap, he found a tiny bright pink dildo attached to a harness, encased in its packaging. It wasn’t longer than four and a half inches, and no thicker than two fingers at most.

He stared at it, trying to breath his pounding heart down to a more reasonable pace. _Well that’s not so big I guess_ , he thought to himself, shocked to discover how much better this made him feel. He turned the package around and around in his hands, smirking and blushing slightly when he saw the complimentary lubricant sample that was included. Compelled, Ryan opened the plastic casing with the scissor that had somehow made its way upstairs with him. He held it in his hands, feeling its smooth surface, the slight upwards curve that he knew was specifically designed to best reach… reach…

Ryan exhaled quietly, blushing deeply. Downstairs he heard the back door slam as Pat came in from the garden and he jumped, adrenaline materializing through his body instantly.

“Ryan?” She called out, and Ryan could hardly hear her over the pounding of his heart. “I didn’t see you or the dogs out anymore, did you come in?”

Ryan stood frozen, as if perhaps not moving would make him invisible.

“Ry? Is everything alright?” He could hear her walking around the house, knowing that as soon as she saw their bedroom door closed she would know where he was, as it was never closed unless they were in it. He was right. “Ry?” She asked again, sounding increasingly concerned as she made her way up the steps.

And then there it was, he knew in a moment she would open the door and he wanted nothing more than to disappear. Flashes of Jennifer’s smile that night, of Colin’s impassive nonchalance and insistence in helping, his _eyes_ and the way it felt when that yell escaped him… No, no he could never hate Colin, even if he did tell them. Ryan took a shaky deep breath, turning towards the door as it opened, still holding the little pink member.

“Ryan, what’s going on, are you o—“ Pat’s face morphed instantly from one of concern to confusion, staring at her husband.  
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.” Ryan shrugged uncomfortably.  
“You’re practically scarlet! What’s going on?” Pat’s confused face was bordering on suspicious, and Ryan knew he had a lot of explaining to do.

But for the first time since he’d collapsed on the guest bed in Greg and Jennifer’s house, Ryan felt a little tiny thread of bravery rising in him, growing and glowing stubbornly as he focused on it, and it filled him with hope. He smiled sheepishly but lovingly at his wife, knowing he was turning even more red. _You can do this_ , he told himself.

“Um. Jennifer sent me this.”


End file.
